


Happy

by Setkia



Series: it's okay to not be okay [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Humour, Insecure Wade, M/M, Mental Illness, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Suicide But He's Deadpool, Wade Has Issues, Wade's Voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: “Do that too much, and they’ll get stuck like that. No, they won’t. That’s just a bullshit thing parents say so you don’t win sass battles. I think that’s what parents say at least, never had any. Well, I mean, I did, cause duh, I exist, and storks are bullshit. But parents. Yeah, I kind of burnt mine to the ground. Anyway, point is, roll your eyes as much as you like. They’re real pretty.”Peter frowns. “They’re brown.”Okay, wow. Out of everything Wade’s said, he’s pretty sure that’s not the most important thing to get caught up over.





	Happy

_Here is my guide on how to be alone_  
_Just act like a freak and_  
_Sleep with everyone you’ve ever known_  
_I’m half-crazy, all just cracked up_  
_When will what I have ever be good enough?_  
_I’m sad, funny, it seems lately this ain’t a fairytale_  
And I don’t think I’ll ever be happy  
—The Maine _,[Happy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKROD3unoC0)_

Fuck the Iron Dildo.

Wade has some serious questions for the man. Firstly, does he have a wrench stuck up his ass? Secondly, does he feel like some sort of mechanical Jesus, overlooking New York or something? But most importantly, can he get the new lab assistant’s number?

Peter Parker is the newest addition to Stark Industries and he’s the most adorable thing Wade has ever seen. And, as a bonus, he’s _legal_. (Wade double-checked so there’s at least _one_ thing he won’t feel guilty about). He wears a lab coat that seems too big on him and he’s got the dorkiest glasses, and he wrinkles his nose when he smells blood.

It’s bad enough that Wade’s going through life with a hopeless crush on a man whose real face he’s never even seen, but now there’s a perfectly beautiful one who is walking around Stark Industries with the greatest ass imaginable, who doesn’t even bat an eyelash at him.

He finds himself storming into the building more often than usual, hoping to catch a glance of the university student (which, he knows is creepy, thank you very much _voices_ ), and loitering around labs.

He’s come in different states, sometimes he’s missing a limb, sometimes he’s missing a portion of his get-up (never his mask though, it’s almost as if there’s an all-seeing entity that knows about his insecurities, _person on the keyboard who probably has plans to force him to face them at a later date_ ), and sometimes he just strolls in through the window (doors are for chumps).

This time has to take the cake though.

Thing is, he doesn’t remember _entering_ the building. He wakes up on a cold, metal table which he thinks may be one of the most uncomfortable places to have sex, because really, sweat and metal and friction and static electricity— well, if you’re into that— wait. There’s a blinding light in his eye.

Wade blinks, trying to gather his surroundings. He’s in Stark Industries, he can _smell_ the good will, and desperation of an alcoholic man. The place _reeks_ of it.

Hold on. Quick body check.

He wiggles his toes and fingers. So he has all of his appendages, and— ah yes, _that_ one is still working too.

So he has all his limbs which means he didn’t have to cut himself loose or anything extreme like that. He can feel the spandex on his tight (not to mention _fine)_ ass, and from the way his breath seems to be self-contained, he’s still wearing his mask.

The only question left is how the fuck did he get here?

“Don’t move!”

Wade quirks an eyebrow. Well, he would if he had one.

He knows that voice.

“Alliteration Ally!” There’s a stupid grin spreading across his face.

**Wow, you’re hopeless.**

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Not you, them.” Wade makes sure to stay super still while he talks, which is a challenge. He likes to gesture a lot, sue him. It helps him take up more of the panel, but if Petey Parker wants him to be quiet, he will be. Speaking of Petey …. “You going to dissect me, Baby Boy?”

“Not now, Wilson.” He can _hear_ the eye roll.

“Later then?”

Peter shuffles around the room, and clicks a pen, writing on something.

“Oooh, is this my yearly checkup? We’re doing doctor role-play now, huh? I’m game. Maybe I need a prostate exam …?”

_THUNK._

Wade keeps his hands at his sides to resist rubbing his head from the collision with Peter’s clipboard. It doesn’t really hurt anyway. “You know my power’s super-healing, so you can do whatever the fuck you want with me and I’ll come back for more. I _have_ to come back for more. Think of the possibilities! I am the best partner ever to do kinky shit with!”

The light in his eyes is starting to irritate him, so he tries to sit up only to be pushed back down by Peter’s hands on his chest. The nerd is much stronger than he looks, apparently.

“I thought I told you not to move.”

“Are you going to punish me?”

Something that sounds suspiciously like tape rips.

“Sounds promising— AH!”

There’s a sharp pain in his upper abdominal area that, somehow, has gone unnoticed until now when Peter applies pressure to him.

“Do you _ever_ shut up?” demands the brunet as he comes into focus slightly, duct-tape being ripped with his teeth. His glasses are askew, his nose wrinkled, as he moves around the table and Wade flinches again.

Not duct-tape, medical tape.

“Am I injured?”

**Peter Parker is touching us. PETER FUCKING PARKER, HOTTEST NERD ALIVE IS TOUCHING US RIGHT NOW— AND HE’S HURTING US.**

Wade tries to stop himself from squirming and making a scene because _Peter fucking Parker is touching him_ , but he still winces when the young adult presses against the wound.

“What the shit, Parker?”

“Sorry,” he says and he almost sounds like he means it.

**He’s a dangerous one.**

As if Wade doesn’t already know.

“Have you taken me in like a dog in one of those family films where a broken home is fixed by an adorable, loveable canine that secretly looks like a mutt?”

The tape drops to the counter. “That should stop the bleeding.”

“Uh, have you met me?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh, that stings, Parker,” Wade says. The voices are getting at him for being too honest. He kindly tells them to shut the fuck up. “But hey, I’m Deadpool. I can’t fucking die, as we’ve discussed. It’s gonna heal itself just fine in a while.”

Peter sits on top of one of the counters in the lab and Wade has changed his mind. Maybe he _wouldn’t_ mind kinky metal table sex. If it’s Parker. “You have to keep your voice down.”

“Oh, but I’m a screamer,” Wade says. “You’ll have to use that tape on my mouth. My safe word is all the lyrics to _Les Miserables_ , London Recording, of course, not the cheap stuff.”

The brunet looks over his shoulder, like he’s scared someone is going to come in at any moment and find him in Deadpool’s company, which Wade can admit, yeah, makes sense. He’s bad for anyone’s reputation.

“What’s got you on edge, Baby Boy?”

“Don’t call me that, and it’s none of your business.”

“Well, as I have to regrow my … kidney? I think it’s my kidney, I’ve got some time. So tell me, I’ll braid that gorgeous hair of yours while we’re at it. I’ve been told I have magic fingers.”

The university student rolls his eyes.

“Do that too much, and they’ll get stuck like that. No, they won’t. That’s just a bullshit thing parents say so you don’t win sass battles. I think that’s what parents say at least, never had any. Well, I mean, I _did_ , cause duh, I exist, and storks are bullshit. But parents. Yeah, I kind of burnt mine to the ground. Maybe. I dunno, the past’s kinda screwed up for me, memories get scrambled and shit. Anyway, point is, roll your eyes as much as you like. They’re real pretty.”

Peter frowns. “They’re brown.”

Okay, wow. Out of everything Wade’s said, he’s pretty sure that’s not the most important thing to get caught up over.

“So?”

“So they’re the most common eye colour in all of North America.”

“And?”

“They’re the colour of shit.”

Wade blinks. “Are we talking about the same eyes?”

Peter rubs his face, letting out a sigh. “Never mind, this is stupid. How long is it going to take you to regrow a kidney?”

“Another 10 minutes, maybe? Why, can’t wait to have your dirty way with me? I’d even let you fuck me on this table, once we clean the blood off it, of course. Unless you like the blood? Are you a blood fetish-ist? No judgement, I’m into some weird-ass shit myself. Well, I’ve been told it’s weird, I just think it’s normal. It’s a result of my trauma, so—”

“Just shut up for a minute, would you?”

Wade licks his lips. He tastes the material of his suit, which isn’t all that great. “Make me.”

“PETER?”

It’s the Iron Dildo. Realistically, Wade knew he was in the building. He just didn’t know he was so close.

Hot Nerd is panicking suddenly, running his fingers through his hair. It’s nice hair, makes Wade wish he still had his—

“You snuck me in, didn’t you?”

Peter bites his lip. It’s sinful, and the only answer Wade needs.

“You’re gonna get in trouble if Iron Can finds me, huh?” Wade swings his legs over the table and ignores the pain in his side. He’s dealt with worse. He taps on the window, and lets out a giggle of glee when it gives way. “Alright, that’s my cue—”

“Wait!”

“You’re gonna get a time-out if I linger too much so better make this quick— whoa!” Wade examines the ball of paper that’s been thrown at him like it’s some sort of totally non-aerodynamic airplane. “The fuck is this?”

“Tony … Tony said you wanted it?”

Wade smooths out the paper. It’s a number.

**Holy shitballs.**

“Is this really your—?” He trails off.

Peter rubs the back of his neck. “I uh … figured what’s the harm?”

Wade frowns. “You _do_ know what I am, don’t you?”

Peter rubs his hands together awkwardly and rocks on the balls off his feet. He looks years younger suddenly, like maybe he’s a seven year old getting scolded. No wait, that was always Wade.

“Human, right?”

“I …”

“Same as me.” Peter pushes his glasses up as they start to fall down the bridge of his nose.

“PETER?”

The moment that Wade would almost call tender passes as Peter panics again and props window open more. “ _Please_ don’t go splat on the pavement. I know gravity’s a bitch, but you are not an easy person to stitch up. I only have lifeguard training, so it’s a pretty shitty job, but I’ll murder you if you tear them.”

Peter looks really hot when he swears.

**Not the time.**

Right, he’s got Iron Salt (cause his blonde eye-candy’s name is Pepper, get it?, **yeah that didn’t land too well, get more creative writer!** ) on his tail, and more importantly, on Peter’s ass. Wade wouldn’t mind having him on his ass— _FOCUS_.

He lets himself fall to the ground just as the door swings open and he can just make out:

“I heard you talking to someone”, before he hits the pavement.

He’s broken all the bones in his legs, but they’ll heal. They always do. He worms his way to the nearest alleyway to take a rest and unfolds the paper again.

He’s got Peter fucking Parker’s phone number.

He’s not sure how he’s managed it, but he’s pretty fucking proud of himself.

  
Wade stares at the number on the paper for way too long before he pulls out his phone and decides he’s going to send a quick text.

_hey its DP_

No, that sounds like he’s kicking down the door and screaming DOUBLE PENETRATION.

_whos your bloodthirsty merc with a mouth?_

It sounds like he’s asking who’s your Daddy, while also being a bit too honest.

_the stitches came loose_

Which, true, but it wasn’t his fault. He’s just been pacing since his legs have healed and wasting ammo on some dingy alleyway wall, trying to figure out what the fuck to say to the hot nerd and ignore the red alert screaming about red and blue spandex and sassy comebacks and— who is he kidding? He can’t ignore the thought of Spider-Man.

_Alliteration Ally, reporting for duty!_

Yeah, that sounds good.

He’s about to actually type the damn message when—

_BANG!_

There’s blood all over the damn paper now, and a hole in his phone.

Great. Fucking fantastic.

Wade turns around and unsheathes his katanas. Someone’s gonna pay, especially since he _just_ got the hot lab assistant’s number.

The one who just shot his shoulder is a man who Wade barely even registers before he’s turned into a kabob and at that point, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Well, he can always ask Peter for his number again, he supposes.

He hears footsteps round the corner and then—

“Spidey.”

The young superhero takes one look at the body on the ground and sighs. “Really, Deadpool? _Really_?”

“I had a good reason! The man just destroyed my fucking phone, and I’ve lost the second love of my life’s phone number!”

Spider-Man bends down to inspect the body, looking for ID, like he’s some sort of cop. Oh, if that isn’t another fantasy. “That’s still not a good enough excuse— love of your life?”

Wade thinks he may have said too much. Time to brush it away like he does his tears. He’s kidding. He lets those swirl down the drain with the blood. “Did ya miss me, Webs?”

Spider-Man frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get shot.”

“No, your side is bleeding,” Spider-Man says, pointing at the side of Wade’s suit. Where the stitches were. Now they’re definitely fucked. The spandex-wearing superhero moves around the body and presses a hand to Wade’s side. “Shit, I knew — how fast is your healing factor?”

**Knew what? HE KNEW WHAT?**

“Pretty fast. Broke my legs earlier, but I’m walking just fine now.”

Spider-Man frowns. Or at least, Wade thinks he’s frowning. It’s really hard to tell, what with the mask and all.

Maybe it’s better this way. Peter Parker is a young adult with his whole future ahead of him. Tainting that with his bloodied past isn’t the best move. He doesn’t need to burden the poor kid with stuff like this. Crumpling the paper, he throws it in the air and shoots at it several times.

Well, he just lost about 3 bullets for no reason.

The paper falls to the ground and Wade steps on it, making sure he won’t look back.

_It’s better this way,_ he tells himself as he follows Spidey out of the alleyway. May as well pretend to be a good Samaritan ( **the word is try, Wade. Though it doesn’t matter, you’ll fuck it up anyway** ), and tag along with Spidey’s patrol.

He knows he shouldn’t be going. Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man should _not_ be seen hanging out with someone like Wade Fuck-Up Wilson _,_ but as he has no impulse control, he goes along anyway.

Spider-Man seems very preoccupied with him tonight, fussing over his side and wondering if he’s got bowlegs now that he’s broken them. Wade moonwalks to prove that he’s totally capable of standing and moving as he wishes, and he’s pretty sure if the webslinger wasn’t wearing his mask, he’d be cracking a smile at some of Wade’s antics.

_It’s better this way,_ he tells himself as he races Spider-Man to the next rooftop. He was going to ruin Peter Parker’s life if he had actually contacted him.

It feels like the universe hates him though. A beautiful guy like Peter Parker gives him his number, and he can’t call him. A hilarious, sarcastic superhero like Spider-Man has apparently decided he cares about Wade’s health tonight and he’s acting _super_ nice, but he can never know who he is.

_It’s better this way,_ he thinks to himself when he gets home late, microwaves his food and puts the barrel to his head, even though he knows it won’t do anything in the long-run.

The gunshot is loud in the silence of the night, and he knows he’ll be up and about in a few minutes from the bullet in his brain, but the voices are quiet for once and it’s only him when he has his last thought.

_I wonder if Spidey has brown eyes …_


End file.
